His Story
by TheWriterGirlCC
Summary: Peeta's point of view of the whole book. Chapter by chapter.
1. Chapter 1 Part 1

When I wake up in the middle of the night, I am drenched in a cold sweat. My pajamas cling to me and my sheets are rumpled around my legs. My breath comes in short, sharp pants that makes my head pound. This is nothing new for me. It happens like this every year like a ritual, on the same day.

The day of the reaping.

I sit up in the darkness of my bedroom and force my breathing to slow. I wipe my brow which is slick with sweat and clutch tightly at my pillow. _You're not going to be picked. You're not going to be picked. _

This has become my mantra.

I've found that the only way to survive the reaping day with out breaking down into sobs, is to think positive. Well, as positive as possible considering the circumstances.

_You're not going to be picked. You're not going to be picked._

This is the only way I will get though the day.

That, and the hope that she will not be picked.

My fear for her is not as strong as my fear for myself but it's still there in the back of my mind. The worry that I might one day have to watch her be murdered.

She doesn't worry about me on this day though. I doubt she'd remember me even if I were picked. She doesn't even know I exist, or if she does, she doesn't acknowledge my existence. She doesn't know that everyday I try to convince myself to talk to her and that everyday I fail to do so.

I don't understand why I am so bewitched by her, I don't think I ever will. I've never even spoken to her.

Maybe it's a deeply buried instinct to protect her. Although I don't think she really needs protecting anymore. I've watched her grow from the starving girl in the rain to the strong hunter that she is today. I watched it all from a distance. Feeling sorry for her loss, feeling envious of what little freedom she had, feeling guilty for never stopping to help her, maybe ask her how she was doing, but most of all feeling a longing that couldn't begin to comprehend.

Maybe it's that little memory lodged in the back of my mind, of the first day of school and the way she sang.

Sometimes I wonder what happened to that little girl that sang because she certainly wasn't that little girl anymore.

Of course I know theoretically what happened; she lost her father.

But I wonder why she lost her reason to sing.

All I know is that she is the thing that I most want, the thing that I have been secretly pining for for all these years like a lovesick puppy.

She is Katniss Everdeen.

She is my little spark of hope.

And yet I can't even bring myself to talk to her.

Sometimes I really hate myself.

I push back the piece of fabric over my window that acts as a curtain and allow myself a small smile.

At least I got to watch the sunrise.

The sunrise is the one thing that is truly magnificent here in twelve. It edges slowly up over the fields of the grassy meadows that are restricted. It filters through the trees and lights up our little district until finding its place in the sky. It's a scene I've wished I could paint so many times but I doubt my mother would suddenly give up a load of our money to buy me paints.

As I watch it rise I see familiar girl ducking under the barbed wire fence and into that forbidden meadow, her long braid slapping against her back.

For one moment she is free.

Other people are already stirring here in District twelve. From my window I can see a young woman brushing back her daughters hair with maybe a little too much force. The girls' face is distorted in discomfort and I know that she's about to cry. She looks young; it's probably her first year.

The first year is always the hardest.

I see another man clumsily trying to calm what I can only assume is his daughter. Her hair is in a lopsided ponytail and her dress is obviously a hand-me-down. Maybe it belonged to her mother.

I've always thought it strange the way we dress up for what is theoretically an execution.

I wish I could feel more sympathy for these people but right now I am only worrying about myself; something I seldom do.

At the age of 16 my name should only be entered in the reaping 5 times. I could deal with 5 times. 5 times isn't that bad.

But then my mother decided to enter my name another 3 times for tesserae.

So now I was entered 8 times. The odd's were no longer in my favor.

I know 8 times doesn't sound that bad but, to be honest, I was freaking out about the 5.

Because I'm not going to lie to you, I am scared. I do not want to be entered into the games in which I will probably die. I want to live a long and semi-happy life here in District twelve.

"PEETA." my mother's voice rang out as she banged her fist on the door. She had a shrill voice, hoarse from her constant shrieking of orders. To most it may not have sounded that menacing but the only thing that scares me more than the games is my own my mother.

"PEETA, YOU NEED TO GET READY." she barked, her banging had ceased.

I listen as she stomps down the stairs and into the kitchen where she is no doubt already baking some kind of bread.

I think it's become an obsession of hers in the past couple of years. I think it's the only thing that makes her happy.

I glance disdainfully at the clothes my mother laid out across a small wicker chair the night before.

I know that once I'm dressed I have to go out there.

I don't want to go out there.

I wish I was braver.

I wish I didn't have to do this.

I wish I could escape into that meadow just like she does every morning.

But I can't.

And so I hastily dress and comb back my hair.

_You're not going to be picked._


	2. Chapter 1 Part 2

With one last look at my parents I file in with the other sixteen year old boys. We stand in one line near the back and all exchange terse nods. These people are my friends and yet I doubt they'd bat an eyelid if I were picked. They'd be too overcome with relief to be concerned about me and vise versa.

The square is already packed with people so it's almost impossible to spot her, but somehow I see her, like I always do. Her face is impassive as always, although I see her twist her hands once before catching herself. I know she must be worried about her sister. From what I can tell it's her sister's first year.

I draw my eyes away from her and focus on the temporary stage that has been set up before the Justice Building. It holds three chairs, a podium and two large glass balls holding slips of paper; one ball for the boys and one for the girls.

I stare at the boys ball; eight of those slips of paper hold the name Peeta Mellark. It's a frightening thought.

I wonder how many times her name must have been entered. There's no way it's the standard amount because, even with the extreme amount of hunting she must do, her family is poor, as are most families that live on the Seam. As are most families who live in District twelve. I doubt there's one family that hasn't had to enter their child more than once but I know that Katniss must have been doing this since her first year.

The odds must not be in her favor either.

In one of the chairs sits Mayor Undersee and in another Effie Trinket, District twelve's capitol escort. When I was little the people from the capitol scared me, with their bright, outlandish hairstyles and their excessive amount of makeup.

They still creep me out a bit.

The third seat is empty and belongs to District twelve's only victor; Haymitch Abernathy. I notice that both Effie and the mayor look worriedly at it and I bite back a laugh. It is almost two pm and Haymitch is most likely already drunk.

The clock on the Justice Building strikes two and the mayor steps up to the podium. He begins to read the same story he reads every year. The history of Panem.

This is where I tune out. I've heard this story so many times.

My gaze wanders towards Katniss again. Her hair is in some sort of elaborate braid on top of her head. She is dressed in a soft blue dress that I know must have been her mom's and I can't help but think _that's not Katniss_.

Somehow, even in her best finery, she looks less beautiful than usual and I know why; she looks nothing like herself.

Katniss is not some delicate flower that belongs in dresses and skirts. She is a fighter. She belongs in her hunting gear with that trademark single braid down her back.

That is Katniss Everdeen.

When her father died she became so strong. She had to, for her mother and for her sister.

I can't imagine that kind of responsibility.

The mayor says something but I barely register his words as right at this instant, Haymitch Abernathy is hollering unintelligibly and trying to climb the stairs to the stage.

I knew he was drunk.

Somehow he manages to stagger up onto the stage and falls down into the third chair.

The whole crowd lets out it's token applause.

Haymitch is obviously confused and tries to hug Effie Trinket. This time I can't hold back the tiny bark of laughter that escapes me and Effie only just manages to push him away.

The mayor looks distressed, probably because this event is televised and right now Haymitch is making a fool out of our already pitiful district.

He tries to divert our attention away from Haymitch by introducing Effie Trinket.

Effie bounces up to the podium, a bright smile plastered on her face.

"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" she exclaims. This is her signature speech.

Her pink hair is slightly askew, probably from her tussle with Haymitch, and I think it must be a wig. I want to let her know so she can straighten it out because I know that she'll probably be mortified when she watches the tapes back and sees her appearance even slightly disheveled. People in the capitol are very vain, or so I've heard.

She starts her little speech about what an honor it is to be here but my mind is already somewhere else.

Katniss' head is up and she is looking around the boys area in search of someone. For one brief moment I entertain the idea that it might be me.

But then she locks eyes with someone behind me and I feel a crushing wave of disapointment.

Then I feel extremely stupid for even thinking that she might be looking for me. Why would she be looking for me? I'm just a boy who once gave her some bread.

Her head snaps back to the stage and so does mine. It's time for the drawing of names.

"Ladies first!" Effie says, just as she always does.

She walks over to the glass ball filled with girls names and I find myself praying that it's not her.

She reaches in and pulls out a slips of paper. You can feel our entire district draw a collective intake of breath. It's suddenly so silent that as Effie then crosses back to the podium you can hear her footsteps echo around the square.

She opens up the slip and reads the name in a strong, clear voice.

_Please don't let it be her. Please don't let it be her._

And it's not her.

It's Primrose Everdeen.


	3. Chapter 2 Part 1

Even before she speaks I know what she is going to do. As her sister walks slowly up to the stage I see the determination in her eyes and I know. She is Katniss Everdeen and this is what Katniss Everdeen does.

She looks after her family.

Yet still, as I hear her gasp out the words, I feel such overwhelming shock that I have to steady myself using the boy next to me. He doesn't notice; he's to busy staring in awe at her, just like everyone else.

"I volunteer!" she cries, already making her way towards her sister. "I volunteer as tribute."

A ripple of shock goes through the crowd. District twelve hasn't had a volunteer in decades. Here in District twelve, the word _tribute _is usually associated with death. It's easy to imagine why volunteers have become extinct.

It's suicide really.

Effie Trinket is babbling on about something or other but I am too transfixed on her as she pushes her way through the crowd. Her sister clings to her, begging her not to do this but she remains stoic as always.

Because she is Katniss Everdeen and she will not show any weakness.

I tall guy that vaguely I recognize from our school comes along and scoops Prim up into his arms. He exchanges a couple of words with Katniss and I know that he is the one she was searching the crowd for earlier.

"Well, bravo!" Effie Trinket gushes and Katniss climbs the steps to the stage. "That's the spirit of the games!" You can tell she's pleased to finally have a district with some action going on in it. "What's your name?"

Katniss hesitates for a minute before answering. "Katniss Everdeen." she says in a strong voice and a chill goes down my spine.

Since her fathers death, I've never heard her speak.

Her voice isn't the usual girlish sigh that I'm used to. Her voice is clear and slightly lower than I'd thought it would be with a harsh tinge to it.

"I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody! Let's give a round of applause to our newest tribute!" Effie trills and her voice sounds strange in comparison to Katniss'.

The audience is as silent as always. Not one person claps. It's our district's only way of saying something. That this is wrong. That we do not agree. That we will not condone this.

I watch her as she squirms uncomfortably on the stage, her eyes flicking from person to person, and I realize the reason for her embarrassment. Ever so slowly, person by person, the whole of our district raises their three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and holds it out to her. Before I realize it, I too am holding out my left hand in salute to her.

It's a strange gesture, seldom used. It means thanks or admiration. Sometimes it is used at funerals; as a goodbye to someone you love.

I see her lower lip begin to tremble and I realize that she is about to cry. Katniss Everdeen, the ice woman, is about to cry. Our collective salute is finally the thing that broke her.

_C'mon Katniss, don't cry. Don't give them the satisfaction of your weakness._

Luckily, at that precise moment, Haymitch decides it's time to congratulate her. Her staggers towards her and I breath a sigh of relief for her.

"Look at her. Look at this one!" he hollers, throwing his arms around her shoulders and almost knocking her over in the process. "I like her! Lot's of…" he trails off, seemingly unable to find the right word.

Katniss just looks extremely uncomfortable throughout this whole exchange and I wonder whether she's thinking about throwing him off of her. I know she could probably do it.

"Spunk!" he says triumphantly, having found the word that previously alluded him. "More than you!" he releases Katniss and is now pointing directly at the camera. "More than you!"

Is he talking to the audience or is he actually stupid, or drunk, enough to be taunting the Capitol? I guess I'll never know the answer to this question because right at that moment Haymitch topples off of the stage and into the audience below, knocking himself unconscious.

He's a really classy guy.

The camera and the audience's attention is on him, but mine is not. Mine is on the girl on the stage who quickly lets slip a small tear before wiping it away with the back of her hand. I've just spotted a rare moment of weakness for the untouchable Katniss Everdeen.

I just want to climb up there and hug her.

Can't they see she's breaking? Can't they tell that she really isn't as strong as she appears?

_It'll be okay, Katniss._

Haymitch is whisked away on a stretcher as Katniss stares out into the distance. I can tell that she's not here right now, she's somewhere else, somewhere green. She's climbing tall, grassy hills and hiding behind trees, surrounded by bird song.

For a moment I am there with her.

"What an exciting day!" Effie chimes in, trying desperately to straighten her wig which is now more than off-kilter. "But more excitement to come! It's time to choose our boy tribute!"

Once again my stomach clenches as Effie makes her way over to the ball containing the boy's names and picks the first slip her fingers encounter. She zips back to the podium and reads out the name.

"Peeta Mellark."

Huh, what are the odds.


	4. Chapter 2 Part 2

As I make my way onto the stage my hands are shaking badly. I concentrate on stilling them, not wanting to show any fear. I want to be as strong as she is although I doubt I will ever achieve that level of bravery.

I try to be unfeeling but I know that the fear is evident in my eyes. I look up and catch her gaze and I know that she saw my fear. I'm surprised by the emotion I see in her eyes. She's shocked, maybe even a little scared. But that's ridiculous, why would she be scared of me? I'm hardly a threat to her.

And then I realize. She isn't scared _of _me, she's scared _for _me. She knows that I am weak, she knows that I most likely won't make it. She thinks I'm going to be killed.

Thanks for the vote of confidence Katniss.

At least this means she cares. Maybe not a lot, but she wouldn't be scared for me if she didn't care. At this thought, warmth blossoms through my chest.

Her gaze flits away from me but not before I see a hint of recognition and for once I think _maybe she remembers._

I will cling onto the hope that she remembers. Maybe she'll go easy on me if she remembers the time I gave her the bread.

I take my place on the stage on the other side of Effie Trinket. She asks for volunteers but, of course, no one steps forward.

It's nice to know I'm so loved.

The mayor begins to read the long, dull Treaty of Treason as he does every year at this point - it's required - but I'm not listening to a word. I've been listening to this speech since before I knew what the reaping was for. I probably know it off by heart by now.

Instead my thoughts are focused entirely on Katniss.

And the fact that instead of watching her be brutally murdered, I might be the one who has to murder her.

Or, most likely, she will be the one to murder me.

Because I just know that I won't be able to kill her, I don't want to of course but I know that if we were in a fight to the death I would probably surrender. If I couldn't even bring myself to talk to her, how was I going to kill her?

I probably won't be able to kill anyone. I don't have the guts.

God, I'm going to be the first to die. I just know it.

But I can't think like that. I don't want to give up yet. Maybe I can win with out killing anyone. I know it's a long shot but, maybe everyone will kill each other and I can just hide out somewhere until the blood shed is over.

It seems possible. Maybe not highly likely but I could do it, if I was clever enough. I just needed to avoid death for a couple of days, maybe a week. That couldn't be too hard, could it?

My gaze travels across the audience but none of their attention is on me. There is a collective look of relief on all of the kids faces now that the two tributes have been picked. Now they only have to wait until next year, but for the time being they're safe from the clutches of the Capitol. I wish I could trade places with one of them right now. I'm so, so scared. It's extremely hard to be blasé about your own impending death.

I wonder how Katniss is taking all of this. Her face is no indication of course but she must be thinking about her chances of survival by now. She's probably already calculated how to take me down.

I find myself hoping that it if I have to die, it will be her that kills me. I'll die with a smile on my face if my last sight is her.

I hope she wins. District twelve deserves a victor.

The mayor finishes reading out the tedious Treaty of Treason and motions for Katniss and I to shake hands. Hers are rough but surprisingly fragile and small in comparison to mine.

I look her right in the eye and shoot her what I hope is a reassuring smile, squeezing her hand lightly. She looks shocked again, I think I've surprised her.

We turn back to the crowd, our hands disconnecting, and I feel a little less whole without her small palm in mine. Already I'm getting attached to her.

The anthem of Panem plays and again I worry about the prospect of my own death. There are twenty four of us and only one comes out. Odds are it wouldn't be me.

She could do it. I know she could.

And so looking out at the crowd I make myself a promise; I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure that Katniss Everdeen is the winner of the 74th annual Hunger Games.

She has to win.


	5. Chapter 3 Part 1

As soon as the anthem finishes we are lead toward the Justice Building. A group of Peacekeepers march behind us, maybe to prevent us from escaping. I've never seen a tribute try to run but maybe it's happened before. The Capitol aren't really ones to take risks.

Once inside Katniss and I are separated and each lead into a large room. I walk in and am immediately in awe at it's extravagance. I barely notice the Peacekeepers shutting the door behind me so that I am left alone. This room is the wealthiest place I've ever been with a lush carpet on the floor and plush couches and chairs. Small pictures of nonsensical things adorn the walls which are covered in some sort of lavish paper. It's truly magnificent to me. If this is just the Justice Building, I wonder what the rooms in the Capitol must look like.

The lush interior only distracts me for a couple of seconds though and then the crashing weight of what is going to happen to me hits me and I slump down on one of the soft couches. All of a sudden I want to cry. But I can't cry because soon my mother and father will come to visit me and I don't want them to see my tears, I have to be strong for them at least.

I raise my head when I hear the door open. My father instantly rushes in and pulls me into one of his strong, warm hugs. He smells of freshly cooked bread and something else that is entirely him. His is a hug that I have to come to associate with safety.

He pulls back and looks me in the eye, tears are already dripping down his cheeks. "You're going to be fine. You can win this Peeta." he says, gripping my arms fiercely. In that moment he truly seems to believe that I can do it. I don't have as much hope.

"Let's face it, dad. We all know I'm not going to win." I breath out and suddenly I'm trying not to cry again.

"No! You mustn't think like that." he hisses vehemently and then pulls me hard into another hug that almost knocks the breath right out of me.

Over his shoulder I see my mother lingering near the door uncomfortably. Her wrinkled hands keep rumpling her dress, then smoothing it until the wrinkles are nonexistent. She won't look at me or dad and I knew that she really just wanted to leave.

Don't get me wrong, I also knew that my mother loved me, even if sometimes she had a funny way of showing it, but she was somewhat edgy when it came to sharing emotions. I knew that she didn't want me to die, it was evident just from the tears that were steadily leaking down her face, but she was never going to come out and just say it. My mother was like an older, way less attractive version of Katniss; stoic, unfeeling, uncaring and maybe even a little cruel. It was just her way.

My father finally let me out of his embrace and patted me on the cheek. "Good luck son." he whispered and left the room, giving my mother a reassuring little squeeze on the shoulder. She just smiled sadly up at him. He gently shut the door behind him and then it was just me and my mother.

An awkward silence filled the room as my mother still refused to look at me. She just glanced around at our luxury surroundings, her hands still worrying her dress.

"Mom," I say in an attempt to get her attention. Other than a slight flinch I got nothing. "Mom," I repeat again, this time a little louder but again I get nothing out of her. "MOM." I say again, only this time it's a shout. When she finally looks up at me there is anger in her eyes and all I can think is _you don't have the right to be angry anymore_.

"How dare you speak to me that way!" she shrieks and I'm afraid that she'll do something she's going to regret, like knocking over one of the obviously expensive vases, but instead she rushes forward and hugs me for all she is worth. She hasn't hugged me since I was a little boy and I suddenly realize how skinny she is. I feel all of her bones as she crushes herself to me and it's one of the most uncomfortable hugs I've ever received.

"I'm going to miss you." she chokes out and I know what she means. She knows that I'm not going to make it, she's not under any sense of denial.

My mother's tears make mine finally start to fall and I wish that I could do something about it. I don't want to be weak anymore.

"I'm going to miss you too." I whisper and try and give her a reassuring squeeze. I feel as though it should be her reassuring me as I'm the one heading to my own death but I guess it's not in her nature.

She pulls back out of the hug and gives another one of those small, watery smiles. It only just occurred to me that I've never seen her smile. I mean, really smile; one of those big, toothy, not-a-care-in-the-world smiles. It's kind of sad really.

"Peeta, I know I haven't exactly been the best mother but-" she begins but I cut her off.

"It doesn't matter, okay? All that matters is that I love you and I wouldn't trade you for any other mother in the world." I say and absentmindedly wipe away the tears that are streaming down my face. I guess I miss one because my mom reaches out and wipes another one away from the corner of my eye.

"Be brave." she whispers and plants a kiss on my forehead. Receiving so much affection from her is a little daunting and I know that she must think I'm going to die. If there had been any chance that I would win then she wouldn't be like this. She'd be the same cold-hearted mother I'd always known.

A Peacekeeper arrives at the door and motions to his watch. "Five minutes." he says.

"I gotta go," my mother says and she walks slowly towards the door. "You know, this year District twelve might finally have a victor." and she disappears though the door.


	6. Chapter 3 Part 2

The Peacekeepers hustle Katniss and I out of the Justice Building and into a small car. I've never been in a car before and it's very strange to be moving at such a speed. District twelve uses wagons mostly to get around but my family, like most in our district, has always traveled on foot.

It's a short ride to the Train Station from the Justice Building and the whole ride consists of nothing but silence. I glance at Katniss a couple of times but she remains cold as ever. I hate that while I'm blinking away my tears not a single drop of moisture pools in her eyes. She's so strong. Too strong.

At the station reporters crowd the platform. They push their cameras in our faces and I don't even attempt to hide my tears. I catch a glimpse of myself on the television screen on the wall and see that the fact that I've been crying is blatant. The whole Capitol can now see me for the weak boy that I am. Katniss, on the other hand, just looks bored. I know that the other tributes will be sizing her up as soon as they see this footage and while they may not see her as a threat, they'll be eager to get rid of her. I wonder what they'll think of me; the sniveling coward from District twelve. I hope they over look me.

We have to stand on the platform for a couple of minutes whilst the cameras get footage of us, then we are finally allowed on the train and the doors close with a hiss behind us. The train begins to move at once.

If I thought the speed of the cars was daunting, it's nothing compared to that of the train. Of course, I've never been on the train as travel between the districts is forbidden for citizens such as Katniss and I. The train to District twelve is mainly used for distribution of coal but the train we're riding is no ordinary coal train. It's one of the high-speed Capitol trains that average 250 miles per hour. We'll reach the Capitol in less than a day.

We are guided through the train and it's even fancier than the room in the Justice Building. We are given our own chambers that include a bedroom, dressing room and bathroom with hot and cold running water. We don't have hot water at home unless we boil it. There are drawers and drawers filled with clothes made of fabrics I've never heard of. I'm told to that I can do anything I want, wear anything I want and that everything is at my disposal. I take in all this information in awe, maybe this won't be so bad after all.

Once I'm left alone and flop down on the soft bed that I immediately start to sink into. There are cushions and blankets covering it so that it takes a while before my body hit's the mattress. When the bed finally settles I let out a sad sigh. _Oh well_, I think, _better get this over and done with_.

I stand up and peel off my best clothes that suddenly seems shabby in comparison the lush clothing lying in the open drawers and take a hot shower. We had a shower at home but it only sprayed cold water so it wasn't very pleasant in the freezing winter months. The hot shower is amazing, like summer rain only warmer and much, much stronger. If by some fluke that I win, I am definitely getting one of these.

I towel dry my hair and dress in a fancy button up white shirt and trousers. I feel fresh and actually completely clean for once in my life. The Capitol shower seems to have washed all of District twelve's coal dust away.

I open the door to my room and am met by the sight of Effie Trinket, her right hand raised as if she were about to knock.

"I was just coming to get you!" she exclaims and I wince at her volume in comparison to the silence of the train. "Just head into the Dining Room. It's just through those doors! I'd better go get Katniss, I'll be back in a minute!" and then she's trotting off in her ridiculously high heels towards what I assume is Katniss' room.

I head in the direction she indicated and end up in the room I guess is the Dining Room. There's a long table set up with dishes that look extremely breakable and Haymitch sits at the end drinking some kind of clear liquid that I like to think is water. I stand awkwardly in the doorway for a minute before sitting down in the chair furthest away from him.

A couple seconds pass that seem like forever. I am about the break the silence when Haymitch pipes up. "I'm going to take a nap." he slurs, stumbling through the doors I just came through.

And then I'm left alone yet again.

I fiddle with my hands uncomfortably in my lap for a few minutes until Effie emerges once again, this time with Katniss in tow. She looks a little more like herself again, in a dark green top and black trousers, and her long dark hair spills down her back in. She's stunning.

And I'm staring at her like an idiot.

Thankfully she doesn't notice as her eyes are scanning the room, as are Effie's. I know what Effie is looking for.

"Where's Haymitch?" she asks brightly.

"Last time I saw him, he said he was going to take a nap," I say.

"Well, it's been an exhausting day." she replies and I detect some relief in her voice. I think she's glad for Haymitch's absence and I don't really blame her.

The supper comes in courses and each dish is more amazing than the last. We begin with a thick carrot soup which is followed by a green salad; lamb chops and mashed potatoes; cheese and fruit; and finally a chocolate cake. Throughout the meal Effie reminds us to take it slow and save some space because their's more food to come. I try to show some restraint but I can't help but stuff myself because I've never had food like this in such a quantity. Katniss is just the same only I don't think she's even attempting to restrain herself. This makes me smile.

"At least you two have decent manners," Effie says as we're finishing our main course. "The pair last year ate everything with their hands like a couple of savages. It completely upset my digestion."

The pair last year were two kids from the Seam who I doubt had ever had enough food in their life. Although we were poor my mother insisted that we were of a high class and would eat as such. Katniss' mother must have taught her to eat properly. I glance over at Katniss and see anger flash in her eyes. _Uh oh_, I think, _somebody just pissed off Katniss Everdeen._

Katniss makes the point of eating the rest of her meal with her fingers and I have to fight off laughter when I see Effie's expression. At the end Katniss wipes her fingers on the table cloth and Effie's expression goes from one of mild annoyance to outright pain.

After the meal I feel sick to my stomach and see that Katniss is also fighting hard to hold onto her meal. Our stomachs aren't used to such rich food, or so much of it, and I have to grip the table hard to stop myself from leaping up and puking my guts out. I clutch my stomach as we make our way to another train compartment and where we are forced to watch a recap of all of the reaping's across Panem. District by district we watch the names being called, the tributes stepping forward and every now and then a volunteer stepping forward. Katniss examines them all with the eye of a predator and I know that she'll be a force to be reckoned with in the games. I too try and examine them and pick out the strongest in the group but I can't help but think that in the end every single one of these people may be dead.

Last of all the show the spectacle that is District twelve. Prim being picked, Katniss volunteering and me being picked. The commentators don't know what to make of the silent salute to Katniss, one says that District 12 has always been a bit backward but that local customs can be charming. I find this a little insulting. It's like they're mocking our most sacred gesture and the respect that Katniss deserves.

The only good thing that comes out of Katniss' volunteering is that nobody mentions me. I am simply overlooked, invisible. Maybe this will help me in the games.

Effie, as predicted, is mortified when she sees the state her wig was in. "Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. I lot to learn about televised behavior."

This draws a laugh out of me. "He was drunk." I say. "He's drunk every year."

"Everyday." Katniss adds and it's the first time she's spoken in a while. I glance at her and see she's smirking which makes me smile in return. I made Katniss Everdeen laugh…sort of.

"Yes," Effie hisses. "How odd you two find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these games. The one who advises you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Haymitch can be the difference between your life and your death!"

With perfect timing, Haymitch staggers into the room. "I miss supper?" he asks in a slurred voice. He promptly then vomits all over the obviously expensive carpet and falls into the mess.

"So laugh away!" Effie cries and flees the room, hopping around Haymitch in her pointy shoes.

**Author's Note:**

**Hi, how are you liking my story so far? This chapter is a lot longer than previous ones so I hope that's okay.**

**Please review, they make me super happy! And favorite…you know, if you want to. Hopefully the next part will be up on Friday.**

**Love, **

**TheWriterGirlCC xx**


	7. Chapter 4 Part 1

Katniss and I take in the scene of our mentor trying to rise out of the slippery vile stuff from his stomach. The reek of vomit and pure alcohol almost brings my dinner up and I feel as though I'm about to join Haymitch on the floor. Katniss glances at me and we exchange a look. Effie was right about one thing; once we're in the arena, Haymitch is all we've got. Obviously he isn't much but he's our mentor and if he's to take care of us, we first have to take care of him.

As if by some unspoken agreement Katniss and I each take one of Haymitch's arms and pull him to his feet.

"I tripped?" Haymitch asks in a confused tone. "Smells bad." He wipes his hand on his nose and ends up smearing vomit all over his face. The sight makes my stomach turn.

"Let's get you back to your room," I say. "Clean you up a bit."

We half-lead, half-carry Haymitch back to his chambers. Since we can't exactly lay him down on the exquisitely embroidered bedspread, we haul him into the bathtub and turn the shower on him. He barely notices.

"I'll take if from here." I say and I can see Katniss' immediate relief. I know that the last thing she wants to do is strip down Haymitch and wash the vomit out of his chest hair, and while I don't exactly want to do it either I doubt I will find it as uncomfortable as Katniss.

"All right," she says, like she's doing me a favor. "I can send one of the Capitol people to help you." she adds as an after thought.

"No, I don't want them." I say and she nods in reply before leaving the room. She must think I'm strange, choosing to wash Haymitch like this, but I have my reasons. The thing is, once we're in the arena there's gonna be a time when we need Haymitch and he can't be drunk when that happens. Someone needs to talk some sense into him and I can only hope that he'll listen to me.

I strip Haymitch down. It takes a while because he's practically unconscious so by the time his undressed the hot water has turned cold. I dump his clothes in a clothes hamper although I doubt they'll even try to wash them and then turn my attention back to Haymitch. The spray has been going for a while now so most of the vomit has already swirled down the drain. I pick up the shower head and turn it on his face and he leaps up with a start, almost slipping over in the process.

"What the hell did you do that for?" he shouts, stepping carefully out of the tub. I hand him a towel and he wraps it around his waist.

"I need to talk to you and I can't do that while you're unconscious." I say and turn the shower head off. The room is suddenly filled with quiet.

"And what is it you need to talk to me about, boy?" he asks sarcastically, pushing past me and into his bedroom. He falls down on the bed and massages his temples with his fingers. "I need a drink."

"No. You need to stay sober," I say. "You're our only chance once we get in that arena and I'm not going to let her die just because you want to get wasted!" my voice has risen to a shout now. I realize what I've revealed.

"You're not going to let _her _die, are you?" he quips, a sadistic smirk spreading across his face. "And why is that, Peeta? Do you like her? Do you have a crush on her? Oh, how unfortunate." he chuckles.

"Look, once we're both dead you can drink yourself into a coma for all I care but please, _please_, you can't just sit back and watch us die." I plead. Haymitch looks at me dubiously before rolling over and puking on the plush carpet.

"It's hopeless…" I sigh and start to leave but suddenly a hand clamps on my shoulder. I turn around, startled to see Haymitch standing upright and looking at me intensely.

"Alright kid. I'll help you." he says. It's not what I'm expecting.

"Wait, what? Really? But…why?" I can't help but ask.

"You're the first tribute in a long time that's ever asked me for help. Most of 'em are too afraid. Let's just say that…I admire your persistence."

I can't believe my luck. Maybe now we really do stand a chance. We've got a sober Haymitch on our side. He won a Quarter Quell, he must be able to give us some tips.

"Thank you. Thank you so, so much." I say and can't help but let slip the grin that had been fighting it's way onto my face.

"We start tomorrow. Get a good nights sleep, kid." he pats me on the shoulder, giving me a slight push towards the door. I get the hint and leave his compartment, shutting the door tightly behind me. The whole train in submerged in darkness now with only the dimmest of lighting. I want to run and tell Katniss what I've achieved but I know the intrusion would be unwelcome at the best of times. I have no doubt that if I burst in on her now, I'll wake up with a black eye in the morning.

And so I walk slowly back to my own chambers, my mind on the prospect of the games the whole time. I know that I can't win and truly, if it means her death, I don't want to but I really do believe that she can win. If she can evade the other kids from the Districts for long enough and gets some good sponsors, Katniss Everdeen could be the winner of the 74th annual Hunger Games. I don't think she'll having any problems surviving in the wilderness, it's just the other tributes that will be a danger to her.

And maybe, if she does die, then I could win. I know it's a long shot but I can't abandon all hope. I was popular at school, maybe I'll be popular with the people of the Capitol. I know that sponsors are the only way I'll survive.

I push open the door to my own compartment and flop down on the bed, not bothering to change into any pajamas. I crawl under the mountain of sheets and burrow myself there. My last thought before I drift off is that of a young girl singing the meadow song.


	8. Chapter 4 Part 2

I wake to a dull grey light peeking through the curtains. At first I don't realize where I am but as my senses slowly come to life I recognize the overly comfortable bed that can only be produced by the Capitol and the sound of the train as it moves swiftly across the country. I sigh and bury my face in one of the many pillows, I don't want to wake up yet. My mind wanders backwards to last night and I remember Haymitch's promise to help us. I hope he keeps his word because without him we're dead.

I sit up in bed and run my hand through my hair. My stomach rumbles and I realize that I'm hungry again, I'm already getting used to the Capitol diet. I push back the covers and get dressed in another one of the many shirts that the Capitol has provided. I splash my face with water and dry it off with a towel and then head to the dining car.

Haymitch is already sitting in one of the chairs and is chugging back some sort of red liquid. I eye it suspiciously but don't have time to question it before being presented with a steaming hot plate of eggs, ham and fried potatoes. A glass of something orange is placed before me along with a mug of what I know to be coffee and something else that is an interesting brownish color.

"What's this?" I ask one of the servers and point to the mug of steaming brown liquid.

"Why, it's hot chocolate of course!" she replies in her thick Capitol accent. I kind of like the way they talk. Everything is said with a smile and a strangely happy infliction. Then again, if you live in the Capitol why wouldn't you be happy? You have everything anyone could possibly want.

I pick up a piece of bread and bite into it. It's rich taste reminds me of home and I let out a little sigh, I thought I'd miss my parents more but in reality I spare barely a second thought for them. I think it's because I know that they're alright, if I were in Katniss' shoes my thoughts may take a different turn.

I hear a faint "Up, up, up! It's going to be a big, big, big day!" from down the train and I know Effie is trying to rouse Katniss. I chuckle at the sound and when I Haymitch looks at me strangely I just dunk my bread in the hot chocolate and take a bite. It's surprisingly good.

A couple minutes later Katniss walks in, followed by a slightly ruffled Effie Trinket. Katniss' gaze flickers quickly across the room. For some reason she always looks as though she is assessing everything.

"Sit down! Sit down!" Haymitch says enthusiastically and once again I eye him apprehensively as he pours himself some more of the red drink. It's obviously taking affect by now. I guess last night's words meant little.

Katniss looks at the food spread out before her before inspecting each drink closely. I notice her falter at the hot chocolate.

"They call it hot chocolate," I say quickly, desperate to impress her. "It's good."

She picks up the cup and looks at it's contents dubiously then, with a small shrug, takes a sip. I see a pleasant shudder run through her and have to suppress my smile.

There's a moment of silence filled only with the sound of our chewing of food and slurping of drinks. I notice that Katniss doesn't start on her food until she's finished her hot chocolate. She's actually quite strange sometimes.

"So, you're supposed to give us advice." she says to Haymitch, her question coming out more as a statement.

"Here's some advice. Stay alive." says Haymitch and then his rambunctious laughter fills the air.

This annoys me so much I have to stop myself from hitting something. And I am not a violent person. Obviously our lives mean absolutely nothing to him. Katniss glances at me for a second and I can tell she's surprised to see the hardness in my eyes.

"That's very funny," I say through gritted teeth. I'm so aggravated I don't even realize what I'm doing until I hear Haymitch's glass shatter on the floor. The blood red liquid dribbles toward the back of the train. "Only not to us."

Haymitch seems to consider this a moment before launching his fist towards my face. His punch lands square on my jaw and knocks me flying. Pain explodes through my face but I don't cry out, my mother hits harder.

I look up and see Katniss stab a knife between Haymitch's hand a glass bottle containing some other kind of spirit. She braces herself for a hit and I know that if Haymitch lays a finger on her I'll kill him; but nothing happens. Instead he sits back and squints at us both.

"Well, what's this?" he says. "Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?"

I scowl at him and heave myself up off of the floor, grabbing some ice from the fruit bowl and pressing it to my swelling jaw.

"No," Haymitch reaches out and grabs the ice. "Let the bruise show, the audience will think you've mixed it up with another tribute before you've even made it into the arena."

"But that's against the rules." I say.

"Only if they catch you. That bruise will say you fought, you weren't caught, even better." he says and then turns back to Katniss. "Can you hit anything with that knife besides the table?"

I glance at Katniss, wondering the same thing, I doubt she spends much time hunting animals my throwing knives at them, but she yanks the knife out of the table and throws it at the wall, obviously wanting to impress Haymitch. The knife sticks and I glance at her in awe, she's a girl of many talents.

"Stand over her. Both of you," says Haymitch, nodding to the center of the room. We both obey scrambling into position. He circles us a few times, prodding us like cattle, checking for muscles, examining our faces. Finally he stops pacing. "Well, you're not entirely hopeless. Seem fit. And once the stylists get hold of you, you'll be attractive enough."

_Why thank you, Haymitch_, I think sarcastically but say nothing. Looking pretty is an important part of the games. Sponsors like their tributes to be attractive.

"All right, I'll make a deal with you. You don't interfere with my drinking, and I'll stay sober enough to help you," Haymitch says and I want to scoff. That's precisely what he said to me last night. I meet his eye and search them for any inclination that he's lying but he seems honest enough. He gives me a slight nod and I decide that, once again, I'll have to trust him. I have no other option. "But you have to do exactly what I say." he finishes.

Katniss and I glare at him hard for a couple of seconds but I am the first to concede.

"Fine." I bite out.

"So help us," Katniss says. "When we get to the arena, what's the best strategy at the Cornucopia for someone-"

"One thing at a time. In a few minutes, we'll be pulling into the station. You'll be put in the hands of the stylists. You're not going to like what they do. But no matter what it is, don't resist." he says, putting emphasis on the last part.

"But-" Katniss begins.

"No buts. Don't resist." he insists. He then proceeds to scoop up a bottle of spirits and leaves the car. As soon as he shuts the door the compartment goes dark. There are a few lights on in the train but as it's morning they're only dull and barely lend any light to the room. The world outside is dark and I realize we must have entered a tunnel. It feels weird to be in the dark with Katniss so close to me. In the silence I can hear every breath she takes. _Talk to her!_ My subconscious screams but we just stand there in silence.

God, I'm pathetic.

I feel the train begin to slow and suddenly we are bathed in light. Katniss and I can't help but run to the window to see the spectacular city we've only ever seen on television. The Capitol. The cameras haven't lied about it's grandeur, in fact they seem to have dulled it's magnificence. Everything seems to sparkle, catching the bright light of the sun in such a way that everything seems blindingly intense. It's truly dazzling. Colors I've never even dreamed of existing are present here. With the eye of an artist I study the city, too enraptured by it that at first I don't notice the people pointing at us.

While Katniss looks at them all with disdain I smile and wave at them, giving them my best grin. If they were excited before they're ecstatic now, waving and screaming like mad as they point me out to their friends.

As we pull into the station, blocking us from their view, Katniss looks at me like I've lost my mind.

"Who knows?" I say. "One of them may be rich." I shrug. I watch realization dawn on Katniss' face and see her studying me with a new level of curiosity and apprehension. And then, a little fear.

The fear isn't what I wanted. I wanted her to think I was clever, maybe to admire me a little bit. But no, Katniss Everdeen jumps straight to the wrong conclusion.

She thinks I'm trying to kill her already.

**Authors Note:**

**Hi! So, what did you think of this chapter. It's super long (well, way longer than my others.). I'm kinda proud of it but I can't wait to get into the good stuff. Please review! Your reviews make me want to keep writing. I don't even care if they're bad reviews. I just love to hear what you guys think. Have I captured Peeta's tone? I hope so, although I still think he sounds a little too…mean. Anyway, I should shut up now. I hope you are enjoying this! I sound like Effie with all my exclamation points!**

**Love,**

**TheWriterGirlCC xx**


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